Set My Spirit Free
by Mrs. Oakenshield
Summary: Kimimeela, Connor's childhood friend, never got to say goodbye before he left to begin training. Intent on finding him and regaining the relationship they once had, Meela leaves the village and is pulled into a world she never imagined existed. Connor/OC. Rated M for all the right reasons :)
1. Hide and Seek

**A/N: For anyone who has Assassin's Creed: III, how do you like it so far!? I'm loving it, if I do say so myself :D I'm a little skeptical about the new features, but all in all I've really enjoyed it so far. So, anyways, here's something I've being thinking for a while now. It'll be an ongoing story, so bear with me if it takes a little while for me to upload a chapter. Schoolwork is hard! The first two or three chapters will be Kimimeela in her younger years, and then things will start with her normal, everyday life. Thanks for reading, and please review! **

* * *

_Kanatahséhton_

_1760_

The sun shines above the trees brightly, casting a warm glow across the forest clearing which grants me full vision from the safety of my hiding point. My muscles tremble with anticipation as I scan the lively clearing, where a herd of deer graze lazily, their ears perking at soft noises emitting from the dense woodland surrounding them. The sound of footsteps echo faintly in the distance, slowly increasing as its unknown figure approaches. As quietly as I can muster, I tiptoe farther within the recess where I'd taken refuge so that only the white of my eyes could be seen through the darkness. My heart hammers in my chest and blood pounds in my ears as the rhythmic footsteps draw nearer. The urge to escape; to sprint away into the tree line chews at the edge of the senses, but I will myself to hold my ground. Being spotted now could mean the brutal end of _all_ my hard work, and the beginning of an unneeded rival victory.

I carefully untie the buckskin quiver slung across my back and lay it onto the rocky ground of the recess, along with my knife and slingshot. The being in my pursuit ruffles through a few ferns and bushes, although they still haven't crossed the recess, ensuring that I have no idea who I should be possibly squaring against.

All at once, the footsteps stop, leaving me in weary silence. I narrow my eyes and cautiously tiptoe toward the clearing and away from the alcove, staying close to the ground in case I happen to see my enemy before they see me. The soles of my boots grant me the silence, but just as I take my first step, a hand curls around my shoulder and laughter booms from behind me.

"Got you!" The boy says, chuckling, "I thought I'd never find you."

"Not fair, Ratohnhakéton," I snap back, wiggling from his grasp so I can stand with the others, "You can't sneak up on me like that."

"Who says?" He asks, crossing his arms and smirking with pure amusement.

"I do," I reply, huffing with anger, "I hate being 'it'."

I crawl back into the cove to gather my things, and place them into their appropriate spots with ease. Turning back to Ratohnhakéton, I note that the sun has begun to drop below the horizon, and the first signs of the constellations have begun to highlight the sky.

"Shouldn't we be getting back? My mother will be worried if I'm out past dark. I still have chores to do."

"Don't be such a pansy, Meela," Kanen'tókon mocks, who stands beside Ratohnhakéton, "Or, I guess you could go back to camp while us _big_ kids stay here and play."

I purse my lips and sigh, looking at Ratohnhakéton for advice. Usually he would stick up for me in these sorts of situations, but he only gives me a sheepish frown and shrugs. I glance back at the direction of camp, where the first nightly fires are being lit, and regretfully move to the group standing before me.

"Okay, Meela, you're 'it'!" Ratohnhakéton exclaims, bouncing with excitement, "Count to one-hundred. And no peeking!"

I throw an arm across my eyes and begin counting immediately as the group scurries to find their hiding spots.

"_Tiohton, niwahsen, enska, tewen'niawe_," I finish, "Here I come!"

When I open my eyes, I nearly jump from how dark it's gotten. I hurry to find everyone, wanting nothing more than to return home and rest for the night. I spot Kanen'tókon instantly, nearly a few feet from where I first began my search. Namid, Apenimon and Anoki are also easy to find, leaving us to locate Ratohnhakéton. It seems like hours before we give up, calling out his name repeatedly but receiving no reply.

"Maybe he's gone back to camp?" Anoki suggests.

"_Hen_," Namid insists, shivering violently, "It's cold. Let us go back as well."

They walk before me, but I continue to peek around the bushes and tall grass for Ratohnhakéton, hoping one of my quick glances will rest upon him. We travel in silence, enjoying the lulling chirps of the bugs throughout the forest. As we near camp, Kanen'tókon says, "The nightly fires are brighter from out here."

I turn to see for myself. The fires do seem bigger, partly because the flames are nearly licking the top of the wall securing the camp…

"No…" I murmur, my pace quickening, "Those aren't the nightly fires, come on!"

We all sprint to the camp gate and take in the sight. The whole camp has been engulfed in flames. We separate to find our families. I dash to my home, but the whole structure has collapsed, leaving in its place only a few still scorching pieces of wood.

"Mother!" I call desperately, running through the pathways while attempting to avoid the various patches of fire, "_Ista_!"

"Kimimeela!" I hear, and waves of relief flood over me as I spot my mother. She gathers me into her arms, where I could stay forever, but she hurriedly leads me to the entrance of the camp and begins to herd me outside, where the rest of the village people have gathered.

"Wait," I intervene, cutting from my mother's embrace, "Where is Ratohnhakéton?"

"He's probably around somewhere, Meela," Mother says, and tries to grab my hand again but I've already run back into the village, my head whipping around to find my friend. It's like hide and seek all over.

"Ratohnhakéton!" I yell, hoping the sound of my voice will carry over the crackling of the fires.

Someone is screaming my name, probably mother, but I ignore her and venture farther into the camp towards Ratohnhakéton and his mother's home. I cough into my arm as a gust of smoke pushes against me, nearly knocking me off of my feet. After dodging the flames and embers, I reach their home. A plank has blocked access to the front door, so I bolt to the back and find my target; Ratohnhakéton. He's leaning over the pile of planks that had prevented me in the front of the wigwam, his tiny arms trying to pry the boards from their twisted assortment.

"Ratohnhakéton," I shout, but he doesn't hesitate from his actions, "Ratohnhakéton, we have to go, now!"

"… You must be strong, Ratohnhakéton, you must be brave." A woman's voice says from within, and I just then realize that his mother, Zio, is trapped underneath the planks. I gasp and jump forward to help free her, but someone grabs me from behind and lifts me into the air.

"No!" I scream, kicking against the man who tries to haul Ratohnhakéton onto his shoulder as well, but Ratohnhakéton bites at his hand and continues to pull at the planks pinning his mother to the ground.

"Stop it, stop it!" He demands to his mother, tears streaming down his cheeks. They dry from the heat before they reach his chin.

"You will think yourself alone, but know that I will be at your side. Always and forever," Zio rasps, her neck straining to speak clearly. "I love you."

Before Ratohnhakéton can reply, another man runs into the home and snatches him up and together, we are both escorted outside of the village. Ratohnhakéton fights against the man, but his strength outweighs him drastically.

"No, stop!" Ratohnhakéton insists, choking on his words, "Let me go, let me save her!"

Their wigwam, once standing tall and strong, collapses. Ratohnhakéton screams with agony, his cries mingling with the saddened, devastated wails of the village people. I hug my mother's leg tightly and sob; sob for the people now gone, sob for Zio and Ratohnhakéton, sob for my father who'd died just two years earlier.

The man sets Ratohnhakéton onto his feet and his moves to my side. I take his hand in mine, trying to comfort him. He grits his teeth and shakes, his hand squeezing mine hard enough to break bones. The anger in his eyes frightens me, and I not only sob for the weakened souls affected by this distaster, but for the people who caused this; who caused Zio's death.

* * *

"_Anioniha tewaten'ron _

_Kahnawake ietsi'tewe _

_Tsethiiatken se'ra'na niha _

_Ne iethinoronhkwa _

_Kak are'no'wa tsi tekanato'ken _

_E'tho tiotirharenion _

_Kak are'non'wa tsi tekanato'ken _

_E'tho tiotirharenion"_

"Friends, let's go back to Kahnawake

We will go home to see our loved ones

They will be out for a walk

Up and down the land

Waiting for our return"

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**A/N: Thanks for reading!**


	2. Lessons

**A/N: Hope you guys enjoy, thanks for reading and don't forget to review!**

_**Alpha Lima One**_** – Thank you so much for your review ****As soon as I knew there was going to be an Assassin's Creed 3, I was searching for ConnorxOC fanfics – no joke! Anyways, thank you again :P**

_**InkOverLoad**_** – Thank you for your review! I tend to type really quickly when I get good ideas, so I apologize for the mistakes. I'll try to fix them once I have time :D**

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_Kanatahséhton_

_1769_

The morning summer air is crisp as I wait outside of Kanen'tókon's home, holding in my laughter as I listen to him struggling to gather his things inside. Of course, he knows the three of us were supposed to meet sometime after sunrise, but Ratohnhakéton had decided to start early today, and I'd _maybe_ forgotten to tell Kanen'tókon until now. Oops.

"Kanen'tókon," I growl with mock frustration, "Ratohnhakéton is probably waiting for us. We must go, _now_."

"Just wait a few moments," He hisses, and I hear him trip over something and send all of his valuables crashing onto the ground, "_Shit_."

I shake my head and knead my single braid through my fingers. The village looks completely different than what it did nine years ago. Life has returned within its walls; I actually see smiles on the faces of my people… except for Ratohnhakéton. The grief and sadness of losing his mother has weighed on his shoulders for nearly a decade now, turning him into a bitterly serious, straight-faced teenage boy. After what happened, my mother and I accepted Ratohnhakéton into our home, but even this could not bring his happiness back.

"Okay, I'm ready." Kanen'tókon says and emerges from his wigwam. He has changed as well, but not as drastically as Ratohnhakéton. Kanen'tókon has thinned out and has begun to morph into the shape of a warrior, even though he's still trying to lose the last of his baby fat.

I guess I've changed in ways, also. I've grown taller and stronger, partly because living with Ratohnhakéton means no rest. He always wants to hunt, fish or explore, and would much rather do so alone, but no one can venture into the valley by themselves anymore. Unlike when I was a child, I wear ceremonial feathers and beads in my hair. On my neck I wear a necklace with a shell pendent. The inside of the shell has been painted blue, signifying that I am an unmarried woman. The thought of marriage scares me; leaves me up at night wondering what sort of husband will choose me as his own. In all reality, I don't want to be wed, but it's a requirement of every sixteen-year old girl in our village, which gives me only one more year of being single and free to do as I please.

"Ratohnhakéton said to meet us near the edge of the meadow." I reply as we begin our journey out of camp.

"Do you think he'll be angry?" Kanen'tókon asks.

I shrug and say, "I guess we'll find out."

The meadows are only a mile or two away from the village, so we reach their perimeter quickly. Ratohnhakéton sits on the chopped trunk of a tree while overlooking the valley, his lips smitten in an unwavering line.

"Peace!" Kanen'tókon calls out so Ratohnhakéton will know we're near.

"You two are late." Ratohnhakéton murmurs without turning his focused attention away from the valley.

"Sorry…" Kanen'tókon apologizes, his voice laced with hurt from Ratohnhakéton's harsh words. Ratohnhakéton doesn't seem to notice, and nods a greeting where I stand beside Kanen'tókon. I return the gesture as he approaches us.

"Come," Ratohnhakéton says, "We have work to do. The Clan Mother asked us to gather materials for tonight. We'll start with the feathers. We can scout the area for bird's nests from up there."

Ratohnhakéton points up a jagged, rocky hill. I recall that tonight, Ratohnhakéton's future and inner spirits will be observed by our Clan Mother. All sixteen to seventeen year-olds must endure this ritual, along with a feast and spiritual dance beforehand. I frown, realizing that Ratohnhakéton will soon be living on his own, with his own family to tend to. He notices my expression, but says nothing. Kanen'tókon raises an eyebrow at our silent façade, but keeps his thoughts to himself.

Ratohnhakéton turns and immediately begins climbing the tree close to where he'd been sitting at only minutes ago. I follow suit and score the tree easily while Kanen'tókon struggles to latch onto the first branch.

"There's nothing to grab onto!" He yells just as Ratohnhakéton and I reach the highest branch.

"Yes, there is," Ratohnhakéton replies, "Look for places where the bark knots."

Ratohnhakéton begins to leap to the next branch, but I stop him by laying my hand on his shoulder.

"Shouldn't we stay back to help Kanen'tókon?" I ask.

"He can fend for himself," Ratohnhakéton answers, "It should just be us out here. Not him."

Ratohnhakéton misses my blush as he jumps to the tree in front of us. He continues onward with ease, his strong legs carrying him from branch to branch. I glance down at Kanen'tókon, and then toward Ratohnhakéton. Making up my mind, I dash along the branch and leap toward the other tree, making the jump easily.

For a second I've completely lost sight of Ratohnhakéton, but I spot him out of the corner of my eye. He's perched on a higher branch, finally stopping to wait for Kanen'tókon, so I climb to his spot and sit. We wait in silence until the panting Kanen'tókon reaches our point. We stare across the forest and valley, overtaken by the beauty of everything.

"It is beautiful." Kanen'tókon says in a dazed, dreamy voice.

"But for how long?" Ratohnhakéton wonders, tone grim, "Come spring, two dozen men will have moved here. By fall, there will be two dozen more. They will hunt in these forests. They will settle on this land. In less than a year, there will be a hundred of them. In time, they will swallow us whole."

"They are still far away." I say, trying to calm Ratohnhakéton's growing anger. He hasn't liked the outsiders since his mother's passing, which I can understand, but not every white man that ventures into these woods is looking to cause trouble among our people.

"Yes, but they are _closer_ than they were. We need to do something. If we do not act, if we do not fight, it will happen again…" Ratohnhakéton snaps.

"But they-"

"Enough of this," Kanen'tókon interrupts and grins timidly, "I thought we were looking for feathers."

"Fine," Ratohnhakéton with a sigh and nods toward a tree in the distance, "There, an eagle's nest. The feathers will be finer than the others. Meela, go grab what you find there. I think I see another not too far away."

"But we are not supposed to leave the valley." Kanen'tókon says.

"No one needs to know, do they?" Ratohnhakéton replies and the hints of a smile highlight his features, "Let's see if we can make it there without touching the ground.

I smile back, mostly because I'm happy to see Ratohnhakéton so cheerful. He forces a smirk onto his lips and runs, gliding through the branches toward the eagle's nest. I climb to the first nest he'd seen.

"This is a bad idea…" Kanen'tókon murmurs, but chases after me.

"This isn't so bad, Kanen'tókon," I chuckle and hand him the feathers I'd gathered, "At least you get to carry the feathers."

Kanen'tókon frowns and I laugh brightly. Ratohnhakéton meets up with our position and gives a few additional feathers to Kanen'tókon.

"There's one more nest nearby. Let's go." He says and is off, his feet nearly a blur as they move along the branches. I run after him, finding it difficult to keep up with his fast pace.

"Can we stop now?" Kanen'tókon yells from behind us, "My legs… they burn."

"Not yet!" Ratohnhakéton calls, "Embrace it. It means you grow stronger."

Ratohnhakéton passes a river in front of me, but I'm looking back at Kanen'tókon.

"Don't worry, Kanen'tókon," I say, smiling, "It seems faster on the way back home. It always does!"

Somehow, my foot gets caught into a nook in one of the trees, and I plummet toward the river. My mind flashes to a memory from my childhood, to me gasping for air as I sink below the rise of the waters near our village. Luckily, my father had seen and dived into the water to save me, but the fright still clung to me, just as it did now. Water is my worst fear.

I scream and fight against the river's current, but I come to no avail. Fortunately, my hand grazes a log along the shore and I launch myself forward and hold onto it tightly.

"Help!" I cry, my throat sore from swallowing so much water, "Ratohnhakéton!"

Someone slips their arms through mine and lifts me up onto the log. I cough and breathe deeply, savoring the fresh air entering my lungs.

"Are you alright?" Ratohnhakéton asks. I nod, holding my hand to my heart.

"I'm fine," I answer, quivering with fear, "Thank you."

Kanen'tókon stops by my side and glances from me to Ratohnhakéton and mumbles, "What happened?"

Ratohnhakéton shakes his head with frustration and hands me my knife which I'd happened to drop. I slip it in its holster and begin hastily walking away from the shoreline. Ratohnhakéton catches up to me and places an arm around my shoulder, trying to comfort me as ghastly images flash through my head.

"That's enough for now," Ratohnhakéton says to Kanen'tókon and I, "Meet me near the hunting grounds during half-day*. We still need to hunt for the feast tonight."

Ratohnhakéton marches off into the trees, probably to find more feathers since the two of us were dragging him down. I turn to Kanen'tókon, and we share a solemn look before returning to camp.

* * *

_Later that day…_

When the sun enters the middle of the sky, I travel out of the village to find Ratohnhakéton and Kanen'tókon. Since my hair was wet and messy from falling into the river, my mother braided it again so that two small stands on either side of my head were pulled back and tied into the much larger braid running down my back.

Kanen'tókon is walking the path to the hunting ground a few paces before me, so I run to join him. We talk quietly about the upcoming event and about Ratohnhakéton, and what might become of him. Ratohnhakéton is crouching near the edge of the hunting grounds, and he waves us toward him quietly.

"We need to collect skins and meat," Ratohnhakéton whispers, "There aren't a lot of wildlife around, but I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."

Kanen'tókon groans and mumbles, "I've never been a very good hunter… And don't say it's because I'm fat."

"Meela and I will teach you," Ratohnhakéton says with a chuckle and flashes me a gaze, "Right, Meela?"

"Right." I reply with enthusiasm.

Ratohnhakéton points to a rabbit hopping among the bushes to our left. Kanen'tókon stands up quickly and squares back to throw a rock at the animal, but Ratohnhakéton pulls him back down to his knees.

"What are you doing?" Ratohnhakéton asks in dismay.

"What I think I should do!" Kanen'tókon insists, and Ratohnhakéton clamps a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet.

"We use snares to capture smaller animals," I say, and hand Ratohnhakéton a few snares from my sack. "Try to snag a few onto the trees around us without making a lot of commotion."

Kanen'tókon does as I've asked and returns to our hiding spot. Carefully, Ratohnhakéton stands and grasps his bow into his hands. He spots another hare oblivious to our position and says softly, "The shot must be quick; the kill clean. We cannot beat a creature with a rock, Kanen'tókon. This rabbit is a gift – we must return nature's kindness with our own."

He pulls back an arrow and releases it. The head slices through the rabbit's abdomen and kills it instantly.

"Remember to take time to aim," Ratohnhakéton instructs as he skins the rabbit, "A missed shot will startle your prey and end the hunt."

"Is this all I need to know?" Kanen'tókon asks.

"Mostly," I reply, "Stay with Ratohnhakéton; he will teach you what else there is to be taught. Let's split up and meet back at the village with what we have."

"Alright," Ratohnhakéton replies, nodding in agreement, "Be careful. It's getting dark."

"I'll be fine." I say and slink in with the shadows of the forest. I find a good hiding spot in a patch of brush and blend in with the silence. A deer saunters from the trees, its tail wagging happily. I push an arrow against the line of my bow and ready myself to shoot, but suddenly a roar echoes through the forest and the ground trembles beneath my feet. I jump up and whip around, only to find a monstrous black bear poised on its hind legs a mere few meters behind me. My mother had always told me that, if I see a bear, I was to drop to the ground and pretend to be dead.

I run.

The bear chases after me, growling with anger. I spot Ratohnhakéton up ahead and his eyes widen as he sees the beast behind me. We run alongside each other, trying to reach the village.

"Where's Kanen'tókon?" I yell.

"He went back to camp. He's probably there now." Ratohnhakéton responds.

As we near the village, the bear rears back and begins to shimmy back into the forest. Ratohnhakéton and I stop, staring at each other in utter surprise. And, just by this simple look, we both burst out laughing. These types of things only seem to happen to us.

"Let's get inside," Ratohnhakéton says, "The ceremony is just beginning."

My mother gives me a pure white hide dress and leggings to wear for the ceremony, along with a matching head wrap. I hurry to see Ratohnhakéton before the Clan Mother takes him into the longhouse, and I catch him just in time.

"Good luck, Ratohnhakéton!" I call, and he turns around and, realizing it was me, smiled brightly. I return the grin and gesture for him to follow the Clan Mother, who is patiently waiting for him to enter the longhouse. When he does, she releases the flap of hide used to give privacy to whomever is inside, and all falls silent.

What I don't know, is this is the last time I will see Ratohnhakéton.

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***half-day – the middle of the day.**

**A/N: Thanks for reading!**


	3. A Bullet With My Name On It

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has favorited or followed this story :D I love you all. From this chapter onward, all scenes are in Meela's present day. Oh, and just so everyone knows, I should have at least one chapter updated every week. I'd have more, but I've had lots of schoolwork lately. -_- **

_**Alpha Lima One**_** – When the bear just jumped out of nowhere, I started screaming! Thanks for your review.**

_**Blackfootchero**_** – Thank you for your review! It means a lot to me **

_**Aoisenshi**_** – I had an all-out battle with myself before I began writing, because I didn't know if I should make an OC who knew Connor before he became… "Connor", or just some girl that happened to cross his path. I think it'd be hard for Connor to trust a random girl, not including scenes where he opened up and showed his emotions. Thanks for your review and the kind words!**

_**CatsGoMoo**_** – (Wonderful name, by the way xD) Because of the hurricane, I had to get my copy the day after it came out, so I got a little behind. I'm on sequence ten, I think, because I really just like to run around and hunt/look for viewpoints. The game is SO good! And yes, typing on an iPod sometimes makes me want to shoot myself :P Thank you for the review!**

* * *

"_Where's Ratohnhakéton?" I ask Kanen'tókon, who's been rather distant since the ceremony the previous night. At the sound of my voice, he barely gives me a glance of acknowledgement, "He didn't come home last night. Usually he'd be back already."_

"_He's gone." Kanen'tókon replies grimly, his glassy eyes peering into the densely-packed trees of the forest. I cock my head to the side and laugh nervously. This is by far the strangest joke I've ever heard escape Kanen'tókon's lips._

"_Yes, and I'm invisible," I joke back, but Kanen'tókon remains still. Frowning, I take a step toward his position and feel the first ebbs of fear eating at my insides, "Really, Kanen'tókon… where is Ratohnhakéton?"_

"_I said gone!" Kanen'tókon snaps and stands, his gaze threatening, "He's gone forever and he's not coming back, Meela."_

_I stutter for words. Not coming back? Gone forever? What kind of crazy is Kanen'tókon speaking of? I smile and chuckle desperately, waiting for Ratohnhakéton to appear from the underbrush to scare me or make fun of my worrying. He does neither of these things. _

"_H-how do you know this?" I mumble, hands clenching into fists at my side. _

"_The Clan Mother, she said Ratohnhakéton's future was not among our people. She said his dreams and wishes could not be fulfilled in our village, and that his path had already been chosen by the divine leaders."_

"_So… He's really gone?" I ask, still holding onto the thought that Ratohnhakéton _must_ be inside the camp somewhere. All objections leave my mind as Kanen'tókon lets out a choked sob, like one he's been trying to hold in for a long time. Tears sting the brims of my eyes and I begin to sob as well, holding onto Kanen'tókon so that I won't fall down. _

_My one and only friend, and the only man I'd ever spend the rest of my life with, is gone- forever._

Ratohnhakéton, who had just begun his journey to find the man capable of training him, overheard their every cry. His mind willed him to turn around; to forget about the Clan Mother's words, but his heart urged him to continue. Gritting his teeth, Ratohnhakéton took his first steps toward his future, and away from the village he'd lived in his entire life. He never looked back.

* * *

_Kanatahséhton_

_1773_

The morning air is crisp and cool as I emerge from my wigwam. Smiling softly, I stretch and turn to Kanen'tókon, who waves at me from across the camp. I return the gesture and begin to walk toward him, the sun warming my back. Birds chirp happily and a group of children dash in front of me, giggling hysterically. For once, all seems good.

But nothing is ever good.

In an instant, it seemed the whole village was overrun with men wearing coats as red as blood. I grab my knife and swipe the blade across the jaw of the redcoat closest to me. He staggers backwards and grips his cheek with his hand, slurring curses and grappling for his musket, which he'd dropped in his frantic attempt to secure his wound. Quickly, I lunge for the weapon and toss it into the distance, smirking at the man who stares at me, dumbfounded.

"Kimimeela, watch out!"

I have only a moment to react; but a moment isn't enough. The butt of a musket impales against the back of my skull, knocking me onto the ground. My vision wavers and trickles like water as I attempt to crawl away from my unseen enemy, but a hand wraps around my shoulder and hauls me onto my knees and keeps me there, killing any thought of escape.

"Don't move, or I'll have a bullet with your name on it." A sly, sadistic voice whispers into my ear.

I shiver, and the man chuckles loudly. I open my eyes to slowly take in the scene. All of my village's people, even the warriors as strong as bears and as agile as the wind, have been forced to their knees.

I lock eyes with Kanen'tókon and cringe at his appearance. Blood streams from a cut along his brow, and if I wouldn't have that damn bullet "_with my name on it_", I'd move to help him. Instead, I turn to the man circling my people. His eyes are darting and unforgiving and his lips curl in a crooked sneer as he peers at his victims.

"Well," He begins, stroking his beard, "What a pleasant welcome. I would have been okay with a celebration, but this… this will do _just_ fine."

"Who are you?" Apenimon demands from our group, "What do you want with us?"

"Ah, I'd lower your tone, boy," The man warns and toys with the trigger of his pistol, "Wouldn't want anything _drastic_ to happen, would we?"

The man again stops where I kneel. He grunts in amusement and runs a finger through my messy hair, and I turn away from him in disgust. As soon as his hand strokes the junction of my throat, Kanen'tókon jumps up and charges toward the man with a furious roar, but several other redcoats tackle him to the ground and pin him there. The man casually moves away from me, barely flinching as he passes Kanen'tókon, who spits in his direction.

"I am William Johnson," The man declares proudly, hands folded behind his back, "I have come to offer my wisdom and knowledge to you… less educated savages."

"Knowledge…" I snort quietly, and Johnson shoots me an icy glare before continuing.

"The Confederacy has consented, and this land is being sold," He says. Johnson pauses, like he expects for my people to gasp in horror, but we stay strong by reveling in silence, "You _all_ must leave."

"No," Apenimon yells and stands, throwing his hands into the air, "This is outrageous!"

A gun fires, the crack echoing through the camp and Apenimon falls to the ground. His wife, Sairri, cries out in fear, but her sister grabs her arm and holds her before she can run.

"Understood?" Johnson asks. Slowly, we all nod, even though we will not give up this land without a fight. I find my mother in the crowd, whose lips are forming words, but I've never been good at reading lips.

"Good… _Good_," Johnson says, "I will be back to see if my order has been followed."

With a taunting snicker, Johnson and his men leave. As soon as they disappear from the camp, everyone runs to their families, embracing each other and whispering words of love. I hug my mother tightly and turn to the approaching Kanen'tókon, whose head hangs low.

"I'm sorry," He mumbles, "I should have killed them, this would have never-"

"This is not your fault, Kanen'tókon," I say, patting his shoulder so he'll look at me, "But, you listen to me. This is _our_ home, not theirs. I am not giving it up."

* * *

_Later that day…_

I peer at my reflection in the cracked mirror my father gave me as a child. My eyes, the color of burnt amber, stare back at me blankly. My mother always says that I have skin like caramel. I would probably agree with her, if I knew what caramel was. A small, straight scar lavishes the bottom left of my lips, and my cheeks are full but angled. Three braids, one at the right of my hairline, one at the left and one at the very top, fall back to join with a larger braid that runs down my back. I let my hair out scarcely, but when I do, the curls are almost never ending.

"Kimimeela," My mother says, and I turn slowly to her, my skull pounding from where I'd been hurt earlier that day, "Kanen'tókon wants to speak to you. He's waiting outside."

Kanen'tókon stands outside, arms crossed over his chest. I'd dressed his wound hours ago, but it still appeared to be bleeding. We look at each other quietly, not talking, not wanting to break the silence that embraces our village tightly.

"I'm going to find Ratohnhakéton," He finally says, voice grim, "He'll know how to handle this."

Ratohnhakéton… His name nearly brings me to tears, wondering if all of this would have happened if he would have been here. I sigh deeply, nodding, and reply, "I'm coming with you."

"You cannot leave the valley, Meela, the Clan Mother will banish you from the village," Kanen'tókon snorts, "I'll be back within a few days."

"But what if you cannot find him?" I counter, following Kanen'tókon as he ventures to the entrance of the camp, "I can help you."

"Meela," Kanen'tókon declares, placing a hand on my shoulder, "I will find him, and everything will be fine. I promise."

I don't answer, and he leaves without another word. I shake my head at Kanen'tókon's stupidity.

My hatred towards Johnson and my longing to see Ratohnhakéton once more is too great to ignore. There is nothing the village has to offer; nothing but an unhappy life and a depressed mother. I begin my plan to leave Kanatahséhton, forever.

* * *

**A/N: I'm SO sorry this toke me so long to upload – I've been super busy. I'm not happy with this chapter at all, so I may go back and rewrite it sometime. Please don't be angry with me! I promise to have a better chapter next! Thanks for reading!**


	4. What's a Boston?

**A/N: I've been matching up theme songs for the characters of Assassin's Creed 3. Connor's is Some Nights, by Fun, and as an extra little bonus, Meela's and Connor's theme song is Only You, by Ellie Goulding ****If you think of any other theme songs for upcoming or present characters, let me know! Thanks for reading, and thanks to everyone who has favorited or followed—you guys are so kind! **

_**InkOverLoad**_** – I think I meant to say her cheeks are angled -_- I was writing really fast because I wanted to keep everyone updated. When I have a chance, I may go back and rewrite chapter three, just to clear some things up. Meela's hairstyle is going to change very frequently, like when she wants to appear incognito in Boston or New York, she'll normally wear it down. I don't have any pictures for reference, but when I post my first big Author's Note, I'll link a few pictures that resemble her hairstyle. As for her face, I personally see her as a mix between Dawn Jackson and Gabrielle Union. Neither of them look that Native American, but we don't know who Meela's father was… yet. Thanks for your review!**

_**Daughterofthering**_**- We'll know soon! Thanks for your review :D**

_**Aoisenshi**_** – Thank you so much! I have a LOT of good ideas for this story, and I haven't even finished the game xD**

_**ShadowJ95**_** – I guess we'll have to find out... Thanks for your review!**

* * *

"We are in a time of great misfortune," The Clan Mother declares as she paces before a bright, crackling fire. All of the tribe has gathered to listen to her words, even Sairri, who gazes at the flames blankly. I sit with Namid and Anoki, my eyes staring off into the distance as my plan unravels in my mind, "But, we do not fall unless the Spirits strike us down themselves!"

The tribe erupts in whoops, cries and cheers, rousing me from my thoughts. A few warriors shove their hands into the air, their fists clenching stone clubs and knives. Frustrated, I slip away from the crowd and hurry to my home. I've only some time to pack, so I need all the time I can get.

Truthfully, I have no idea where I'll find Ratohnhakéton. He could be a mere mile away, or a lengthy five thousand. The least I can do is ask others I encounter if they know him or have seen him, but how far will that get me? I shiver as I realize that Ratohnhakéton could very well be dead, but I shake the thought out of my head and reach for the hunting pack I keep near my bedroll. Inside are various items I occasionally choose to carry inside the village's walls; a knife, an assortment of arrowheads, and my personal favorite, an iron saw tooth sickle. I stumbled upon it while hunting with Kanen'tókon. We both promised to keep it a secret, since bringing foreign weapons into the village was sometimes said to attract evil Spirits.

I ruffle through the woven chest at the foot of my bedroll and carefully pull out my most prized articles of clothing. The hide is the color of crème, which is very rare and takes months and months to acquire enough to make a whole outfit. The skirt hangs just above my knees and the shirt I wear is sleeveless with a small, angled poncho that covers my shoulders and stops at near my ribcage. After every hem is darker fringed hide. Under the skirt I pull on a pair of trousers that immediately slip off of my waist and bunch into a lump around my ankles. Searching around my room, I find a wisp of dark twine and use it as a belt to keep my trousers from constantly falling down. I delicately unravel my braid, the dark brown hair waving into fine, lush strands. I braid a small bit of hair that runs over my right shoulder and one that falls down my back.

My bow lies propped against a corner of my room, and I strap it across my shoulder so the handle lies against my back and the string settles tightly to my chest. Designs of deer and elk are carved into the wooden handle; all handicrafts of my father. I grab my boots, which I usually throw into my room carelessly and lace them up with my back to the entrance of my wigwam.

"Leaving?" A voice asks behind me, and I spin around and open my mouth to argue with whoever just waltzed into my home, but my eyes lock with those of the Clan Mother, and I immediately bow my head in greeting to show my respect, even though all I want to do is turn around and flee like a child.

Instead of banishing me right then and there, the Clan Mother smiles warmly and waves to my bedroll. I sit down obediently while she takes a sit beside me. Her face is cinched and her eyes sink into her head from years of constant stress and worry. Her eye color, though, is the brightest hazel, and change from blue to green to yellow as she moves to speak directly to me.

"I used to be like you, once," She finally says, nodding as she recalls her memories, "Independent, _stubborn_. Wanting nothing more than to live my own life how_ I_ wanted it to be lived."

I nod and smile, trying to imagine the Clan Mother in my position at my age. She grasps my hands with her much smaller, fragile ones so I have her full attention and leans toward me so our conversation will remain hidden.

"Do what your heart tells you, Kimimeela," She rasps, "Fulfill your destiny with your own decisions, and you will soar. Higher than this home, higher than the trees that guard our village. You have good intentions and a good soul. This… this life is not for your being. I know that, and the Spirits understand."

"Thank you, Clan Mother." I say, and she smiles kindly.

"It is Ratohnhakéton you search for?" She asks.

"I want to find William Johnson," I reply with a sheepish grin, "I want to restore safety amongst our people… and Ratohnhakéton _might_ have a little part in that."

"I should not encourage such acts as this; leaving the village," the Clan Mother murmurs and I cringe as I wait for her to finally begin yelling at me for thinking so foolishly, "But… I hope you succeed in what you're looking for. The Spirits are watching over you, Kimimeela."

She swivels around without another word and I stand quickly, squeezing her hand and slowly helping her onto her feet. She grasps her staff tightly and gives me one last, trustworthy, determined look before retreating back to her own longhouse. I stand in the middle of my tiny room, heart pounding, and find comfort in the silence.

* * *

When my mother reaches our home, she barely gives me a nod of acknowledgement before curling into a ball over her bedroll, even though she clearly sees the supplies and clothes I wear. As the years have gone by, she's grown distant and will only speak to me when others are around. I blame her actions on myself, though my father's death is the biggest supporter. Still, it is her duty to raise me, not the other way around.

As soon as her breathing evens and she falls into slumber, I peek my head through the hide flap covering the entrance to our wigwam and search for any lingering families still awake. When I find none, I silently creep outside and, blending into the shadows, jog to a tree near the wall of our camp. Its branches curve near the wall which leaves me just enough space to jump across.

Finding purchase against the bark of the tree is difficult, but my lithe body and my strength help me to climb easily. I perch in the middle of two forked branches and, spotting a patch of brush across the wall, leap forward. I roll into the brush, quietly coughing up leaves I'd somehow managed to swallow. After rearranging my clothing, I turn back to the giant wall that once made me feel so safe and begin walking in the opposite direction.

When I reach the edge of the valley, all seems to be quiet. No bugs chirp, no critters bustle in the leaves around me. All I can hear is the pounding in my ears and my breathing, which brings up white puffs of smoke from the cold. Everything looks so foreign; so unreal that I can't help but tingle from the anticipation to explore and see everything.

I walk for miles before my legs begin to creak with discomfort and my eyes begin to droop from fatigue. I spot a fallen, hollowed out trunk nearby and throw down my bedroll beside it carelessly, falling asleep as soon as I settle down into the warm, soft hide.

The next morning I wake to the sound of footsteps. Still groggy and tired, I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes before I freeze, finally realizing what the noises are advancing toward me. I bite my tongue and swing across the side of the trunk, burying myself into the leaves and growing silent.

The footsteps continue and I look cautiously over the top of the trunk with wide eyes. If I were near camp and needed to retreat, I'd easily have the forest memorized, but here I barely know my north to my south. When I recognize the man passing by to be Kanen'tókon, I shake my head but remain quiet. Oblivious to me, Kanen'tókon disappears into the trees and I stand and stretch while yawning loudly.

As I pack up my bedroll, I decide to backtrack Kanen'tókon's path, since it will be the best chance of finding Ratohnhakéton. He's been following a manmade trail for quite some time now, so I happily begin the second day of my journey with high spirits.

I hum softly to myself while maneuvering around the trees, keeping slightly off the path so that I'll be less likely to be spotted by any unwanted guests; redcoats, especially.

"Miss!" A shrill, hysterical cry rings out, and I turn just in time to be bombarded by two young boys, "Miss, you've got to help us! Our dads are fighting again!"

I glance between their faces. How could they have seen me so easily? The two of them are harmless, though, so I smile amusingly, nod and ask in fluent English, since most children are expected to be taught extensive English back at the village, "Where at?"

"Follow us!" They both reply simultaneously.

I follow them intricately through the forest. They glance back every so often to ensure I'm still there, but I can't even think of walking away. If there are people settled around these parts then they must know where Ratohnhakéton is. We pass by houses, not wigwams, which I've seen before but only from the very tops of the highest trees near our camp. I could have never imagined they'd be this tall from where I stand now.

"I told you I didn't need your help!" A gruff, heavily-accented man yells in the distance, growing louder as we approach, "If you'd listened, none of this would have happened!"

The three of us burst into a clearing that overlooks a gushing stream and two houses. On a hilltop across the stream is a tall, bright red manor that leaves me breathless. I turn my attention to the two men practically killing each other before me and step forward to intervene.

"Hey!" I call, but neither of them stops. One is a bigger man with a color-drained hat on his head, and the other a spring weed with a mess of bright red hair. Thrusting my hands between them, I attempt to push them apart but come to no avail.

Sighing with frustration, I grab either of their ears and yank them away from each other. The bigger man yelps in pain even though blood gushes over a wound from his lip, while the other tries to calm himself.

"_Ouch_," The larger man groans, "Who the bloody hell are you?"

"Meela," I reply nonchalantly, "I was traveling to see a friend when your boys came to me in the woods; asked me to break up a fight."

"Oh, this is nothing!" The smaller man insists, "We do this all the time, Miss."

"You're setting a bad example for them." I say quietly and point my hand to their sons, who cower a few feet away. The men's threatened glares soften and they both hug each other tightly and apologize.

"Thank you, Miss," The larger one says and holds out his hand. I stare at the gesture questioningly, but he hastily takes my own hand and pumps it a few times, "I'm Godfrey. This here if my friend Terry."

"Would you like to have supper with us?" Terry asks, "I think my wife was planning on cooking up something good."

"No, but I'll take you up on that," I answer with a smile, "I do have a very important question, though."

They both nod together, just like their two sons.

"I'm looking for a friend… His name is-"

"I knew you reminded me of someone!" Godfrey exclaims before I can finish, "Well, you must be a relative of Connor's. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Meela, Connor has helped our families greatly."

I narrow my eyes slowly. Connor?

"No, no, I'm looking for Ratohnhakéton," I say, "I haven't seen him in a long time, so I don't really know how to explain his appearance."

Godfrey and Terry share a glance of confusion, and then turn back to me.

"I'd speak to Achilles if I were you, the old coot who lives in the manor over the creek," Terry says, "I can promise you that Connor's the man you're looking for. Ain't never heard of no '_Ratonton_'."

"That ain't how you say it!" Godfrey insists.

"'_Ain't_' ain't a word, dumbass." Terry retorts.

"You just said it!" Godfrey cries, bringing his fists to his chest.

"Okay, okay," I interrupt, "Thank you for your help. I'll go see Achilles now."

"No problem, Miss Meela," Godfrey calls as I begin walking toward the bridge nestled over the stream near their home, "Come and visit us sometime!"

I cross the bridge quietly, daring myself to look down at the churning, violent waves of the stream's current. After crossing the bridge, I follow an uphill path to the large manor. Now that I'm closer, I see a corral and stables connected to the main mansion and a smaller, cozier home to the left. I step onto the front porch of the main home carefully, my fingers grazing the brick walls of the expansive home. A tomahawk has been wedged into one of the pillars of the manor, but not just any tomahawk; Kanen'tókon's tomahawk. I hurry a little too quickly to knock on the door, nearly falling over in the process.

My breath catches in my throat as I hear shuffling from inside. A minute passes before the door creaks open softly, the man nothing like the 'Achilles' I imagined. Instead of strong and tall like my brain had cooked up, Achilles leans forward heavily onto an old, worn cane. His skin is dark and his misty blue eyes peer up at me over the brim of a dark brown hat.

"Yes?" He asks, his voice firm by raspy. I try to see over his shoulders, because maybe, _maybe_ Ratohnhakéton will be standing inside, but Achilles squeezes the door shut a little tighter, sensing my wandering gaze. "Can I help you?"

"Hello," I say and hesitantly reach out my hand just as Godfrey had. Quirking an eyebrow, Achilles shakes my hand and I smile, "I'm looking for a friend of mine; Ratohnhakéton. I met two men who said you could help me find him."

Achilles stiffens and cautiously glances through the trees around his home. He turns back to me, and in a forced whisper, mumbles, "How do you know of Connor?"

"Okay, I give up, who in the gods is Connor?" I demand in exasperation, and Achilles swings his door open widely, giving me room to step inside. When I pause, he waves me forward and I walk into the home, my widened eyes taking in the large ceiling and long hallways leading to enormous rooms.

Achilles limps to the first room to our right and, once inside, takes a seat on a red plush chair. Not wanting to be rude, I stand at the doorway before he invites me inside and I sit down on a similar chair beside him. He says nothing before a long time, just staring off at something I can't see.

"You must be Meela," Achilles says, folding his hands together across his lap, "Connor speaks of you often."

"Connor is… Ratohnhakéton?" I ask, and Achilles nods.

"Sorry for being so rude. If Connor were here, I'd have him fetch you something to drink. I am Achilles." He introduces himself, but I'm still pondering how Ratohnhakéton became to be known as Connor.

"Ratohnhakéton has never gone by a name like Connor," I say, "Did he come up with it on his own?"

"Of course not!" Achilles exclaims, chuckling, "I don't understand how you can pronounce each other's names. Like the boy who comes here every so often; Kane… _Kanen_…-"

"Kanen'tókon," I offer, and Achilles nods, "So… _Connor_ has lived with you all these years? What has he done? Is he here now?"

"He's stayed here until now, yes," Achilles replies, "We- _he's_ been, uh, helping me rebuild my manor and restore my land."

I tilt my head and state, "That's surprising. Ratohnhakéton is more of a hunter than a builder."

"Well, that boy has helped me tremendously," Achilles suddenly pushes against his cane, and I reach forward to help him but he's already hurriedly shuffled to the front door, and is that a bead of sweat I see on his temple? "You really should be going. Thank you for visiting, Meela."

"Wait…" I say, my voice growing firm, "I have traveled far looking for Ratohnhakéton. I have been banished from my only_ home_, just so I can find him and help my people that will probably never look at me again. Please, Achilles, I must find Ratohnhakéton."

Achilles sighs deeply and purses his lips. He hesitates before sighing again in defeat and says, "Connor should be in Boston seeking Samuel Adams."

"What's a 'Boston'?" I ask. Achilles grunts once with amusement and points outside since he's opened the door to escort me out.

"Just past that cliff is the path to the Frontier. Follow the road until you find a wall guarding the _city_ of Boston. There should be many people bustling about. Look for Connor there, preferably among the shadows. He, _uh_, likes to keep to himself."

"Thank you, Achilles." I say, even though I hardly know if he's telling me the truth. I begin to walk away from the manor but stop and turn back when Achilles calls my name.

"When you find him… ask him of the Creed," He says, a bit guilty, and adds softly, "Good luck, Meela."

* * *

**A/N: Yay, long chapter! I wanted to make it longer, but I didn't want to bore you with hours and hours of Meela endlessly walking through the woods. I can't wait until the next chapter… *hint* *hint* :) Hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading!**


	5. Trust

**A/N: Sorry for updating so late, I have a huge project due after the break -_- it's on ways to survive the zombie apocalypse… so, I'm kinda going crazy over it *sheepish grin* Anyways, I finally finished Assassin's Creed 3! Yay, drinks for all :D I give it a 10 out of 10, all the way! Hope you all enjoy—thanks for reading!**

_**RavingSunshine**_**- Me too, oh my Lord, I've been killing myself trying to lengthen things with this story. Thanks for your review **

_**ShadowJ95**_** – I'm sorry; it's taken me so long to update _ here's a chapter for your troubles.**

_**KXR**_** – Thank you so much!**

_**CatGoMoo **_**– Hahaa, I didn't want to make Meela seem so idiotic, but since she's a woman, she really wouldn't know much about outside of the village. Thank you for your review!**

_**Aoisenshi **_**– I thought the ear-grabbing was a successful move on Meela's part xD thanks for your review!**

_**Barbs-Criatividade Zero**_** – I tried my best to even out Meela's personality and emotions, like how she's tough from pretty much raising herself but is still petrified by water. Thank you! **

* * *

_White robes flow over her tan skin, complementing her rich-as-honey eyes and dark, curly waves. She runs a hand over the fabric of her clothing and feels the buttons and pockets underneath. Her fingers are laced with the man who stands beside her, his gaze alert as he scans the crowds and crowds of people surrounding them. _

_He squeezes her hand and she turns to where he's looking. She immediately finds their victim; she doesn't know how they couldn't have heard him, since he's practically screaming about politics and taxes and things they completely ignore. The man's hair sticks to his sweaty forehead, and his squinty, merciful eyes stare crazily into the few curious stragglers gathered around him. Even from their distance, she can already hear the blood pounding in her ears and feel her temples throb with anger. _

_Without a word said between them, the two begin walking forward, their pace increasing as they near their target. Her partner veers off to the right at the last moment, disappearing into the swarm of people gathered around the harbor. She turns to pull him back to her, but she can find no sign of him. Suddenly, a hand grasps her shoulder and she's yanked forward, her face inches from her attacker, sweat dripping from his forehead, hair pressed to his slick skin. Behind him, she sees the glowing lavender outline of a woman, her lips pulled back in a sadistic snarl and her feet floating an inch off of the ground_

My eyes fly open and I bolt forward, my hand gripping my sickle as I hastily scan my surroundings. For a few moments I just sit there, panting as I try to recollect the memory of my scattered, blotchy dream. Who was the person whose perspective I guided? Was the woman I saw a vision of the Spirits, and was she trying to tell me something? I take a deep breath through my nose and wait for my beating heart to calm before I begin gathering my things to continue towards Boston.

After traipsing aimlessly through the woodland for a good twelve hours I finally came upon the Frontier, which was a lot more populated than Achilles' happened to mention. Everywhere I turn I'm welcomed by larger and larger convoys of redcoats, whose stares burn my back as I hastily move past them. The forests have thinned out, so traveling completely incognito is basically impossible, but the thick, uncivilized underbrush has proven to be a successful and safe shelter.

A small settlement welcomes me as I cross the patch of woods, but the sight turns ugly as screams of protest fill the air. The door of a small shack swings open and a dark-skinned man is roughly thrown onto the porch by two others. The man's attackers wear blue uniforms, so unlike the red uniforms I've already grown accustomed to. The two uniformed men lift their victim up and drag him across his yard and through the barn behind their home. A woman, no doubt the man's wife, chases after them.

"Please, stop!" She cries, hands trying to reach her husband.

Intent on helping them, I wait until the coast seems clear and then dash across the open road and to the barn. From a small opening in the wood near the ground I can see two bluecoats holding the dark-skinned man into the mud. A few other bluecoats have slaughtered their animals, and one restrains the woman as they beat her husband senseless. Leaping through the window of the barn, I run forward and slide through the opening, the angle of my feet tripping the bluecoats pinning the man down. They fall hard and groan with pain while the others ready their weapons to attack.

Two bluecoats raise their bayonets at me at the same time, and I duck under their strikes and push one into the other, knocking them down and finishing them quickly. The only bluecoat left stares at me with wide, fearful eyes. I smirk and jump forward, and he scrambles away with a high-pitched scream, dropping his musket and a red coin purse.

I turn to the woman and her husband, hoping my surprise rescue hadn't scared them away. The woman cups her husband's cheek in her hand, his head laid on her lap, blood drenching his clothing.

"Are you alright?" I ask and the woman nods solemnly, "What happened?"

"They demanded we give our entire yield to the crown! Warren refused and they killed our animals, salted our earth, then dragged us out… you saw what followed," The woman exclaims, her angry mixing with her sadness, "I'm afraid we have nothing to give you in thanks, stranger. We have nothing left."

"Kindness is a free giving, ma'am." I say, and she smiles and says, "Prudence… my name is Prudence. This is my husband, Warren."

It kills me how much pain the two of them have endured, and I wonder what_ I_ could do to help. If they were settled somewhere nicer; somewhere that was safe from the bluecoats and redcoats, they could live happily without worrying about anything like this happening again.

"Perhaps there's something you could _do_ instead." I offer and kneel beside Prudence.

"Anything." Warren rasps, and Prudence shushes him softly so he won't potentially hurt himself further.

"My friend lives in a small community not far from here. The soil looks rich. The people that live there would have need of fresh vegetables, wheat or corn. If you were to rebuild your farm, you may prosper."

"What generosity is this?" The woman wonders, shaking her head in amazement, "This is truly a blessing. Thank you, stranger."

"You can call me Meela," I answer and smile warmly, "I should be going. I hope your intentions are fulfilled."

I help Prudence lift Warren to his feet and watch them slowly return back to their home. A strike of fear hits my gut as I realize the bluecoat I let run away has probably alerted others; others who will know _exactly_ what I look like, and will be searching for me.

"Prudence, wait!" I call, and she stops and spins around to look at me, "I could actually use some help."

* * *

"This should fit," Prudence says and hands me a dress. The fabric is navy blue with a white floral print and a similar-colored belt snuggled tightly against the waist, and the swooping neckline and quarter sleeves are ended with ruffles of white lace, "You can leave your old clothing here and return to reclaim them after you're done… Which reminds me, you never mentioned where it was you were headed."

"Boston," I reply. Prudence gestures towards my arms, and I raise them as she throws the dress over my head. I pull it on and wiggle around, trying to make the gown as comfortable as I can, if that's even possible, "I'm looking for a friend I haven't seen since I was a child."

"This is the same friend who lives in that small community, correct?" Prudence asks, and I nod. The flame of an oil lamp flickers in the tiny bedroom, casting our distorted shadows across the walls. I'd decided to braid my hair again when arriving in the Frontier, so Prudence lets it down and chuckles as it instantly bounces into kinky waves, "What is his name?"

"Connor," I reply, the name sounding foreign on my tongue, "Back at my village, he was called Ratohnhakéton."

"That sure is hard to remember," Prudence says, ruffling her hands through my hair, "You two were close?"

"Very," I answer, smiling as I recall our time together, "I would have given anything for him to stay in the village. I still don't understand why he left. If I do find him, I hope he'll clear things up for me."

"So you_ like_ this boy," Prudence teases with a humorous smirk, "What will you do after you find him?"

I shrug lightly and answer, "Honestly, I have no clue. I want to rebuild our relationship, but also work with him to bring safety to our people."

"Well, I hope you two are reunited," Prudence says, "You could stay here for tonight, if you'd like. It's already dark out, and Boston is normally dead during these hours."

"The sooner I get there, the better. Thank you, though." I reply as Prudence leads me to her back door. We pass Warren, who sits in the kitchen with a bandage wrapped tightly across his shoulder. He waves at me as I leave, and I smile kindly before stepping outside.

"Those idiots forgot about the horses we keep in the barn," Prudence says, "Take the gray one. He's a bit lame, but he should take you as far as Boston."

"Thank you," I say, but then pause as I realize what I've just agreed to, "Uh, Prudence…"

I turn, but she's already closed the door and gone back inside. Taking a deep breath, I walk inside of the barn and spot the gray horse immediately; its eyes screaming death. Horses are only ridden in my village during battle, and women are forbidden from this action… even though I_ might_ have secretly taught myself to ride one night. Still, it's been years since I've even touched a horse, so I have only little idea of what I've gotten myself into.

"Hey, _horse_," I say, walking toward it slowly with my palm stretched outward, "I'm Meela, it's nice to meet you."

The horse whinnies as I approach its side and I carefully lay my palm flat against its neck. I pat him lovingly before taking a piece of his mane with my right hand tightly and using the leverage to climb swiftly onto his back. I roll Prudence's dress up to my knees so I can sit comfortably. He rears but I somehow manage to stay upright, waiting until he's calmed before leading him outside of the barn, "Let's go, then. We've got a long ways ahead of us."

* * *

The wall surrounding the north end of Boston is bigger than I could have ever imagined. I stare up at the thick stone with wide eyes, wondering how something this monstrous could be constructed. A group of redcoats nearby laugh crudely at my bewildered expression, and I shoot them an icy glare before urging the horse forward and into Boston. The moon hangs brightly in the very middle of the sky, so only redcoats patrol the empty streets of the city.

How will I ever be able to find Ra-_Connor_ in a place as big as this? Achilles said to look for him in the shadows, but what does that mean?

"Hey, there, Miss," A gruff voice calls, and I look over my shoulder to see three redcoats walking toward me, their drunken grins sending shudders down my spine, "What are you doing out so late. A young lady like yourself will get _lost_ in the dark."

I ignore them and try to kick Prudence's horse so he'll proceed onward, but the steed seems to have no energy left. Desperate to escape the victimization of the redcoats, I drop down from the horse and run.

"Get her!" A redcoat calls, and before I can swing behind the corner of a building, they fire their guns. A bullet grazes my shoulder and I cry out, my hand pressing against the wound. The pain leaves me breathless but I continue running, even though I have no idea where I'm running to.

Just as my feet have grown numb, the yells of the redcoats cease, and I double over and heave, one hand still holding my shoulder. I look up and spot a vacant alleyway to my right and slowly make my way inside. Suddenly, a scream of, "We're not giving up yet, Miss," and I hurry inside and into the shadows. I watch the remanding redcoats jog past the opening of the alleyway, and as soon as the sound of their footsteps quiets, I drop to the ground and whimper in pain. I lift the hand holding my shoulder to my eyes and cringe at the blood covering my fingers. If I don't find help soon, I'll have lost too much blood and I'll be nothing more than crows bait.

Something big drops down from the rooftop in front of me, and I raise my sickle with my good arm. The figure stands and takes a step toward me and I toss my sickle at him, though he dodges my attack easily.

"Leave me alone," I demand, "I'm not afraid to defend myself!"

"You're hurt," The man says simply. His voice is smooth and familiar, but I can't recall who he reminds me of. He kneels beside me and reaches toward my shoulder, but I bat his hand away. His eyes are hidden behind a white hood which covers most of his face, so I can't tell if he's truly worried about me or just an_ undercover _redcoat, if Boston even has those, "I'm not going to hurt you. I promise."

He cautiously lifts my hand from my shoulder, but trust is not something I have in common with him. One punch is all it takes to have him recoiling in pain, his hand cupping his jawline. He groans and mutters, "Ugh... _Iah tewake'nikonhraien:ta's_."

I gasp softly. That's not just any language; it's _my_ language. I narrow my eyes and lift the hood from the man's head. He looks at me with blank, serious eyes, and at once realization both hits us.

"_Ratohnhakéton_?"

* * *

**A/N: DUN DUNN DUNNNN! Thanks for reading! =3**


	6. On Johnson's Trail

**A/N: This chapter was so fun to write and I'm so excited to give you guys another update! Just to remind everyone, I LOVE to talk to my reviewers, so if you want to ask questions or chat about anything, I'd be more than happy to reply ****I've been trying to find a good image for this story, but I've failed miserably -_- after Christmas I'm going to buy some type of Photoshop and try to come up with something. Anyways, happy late Thanksgiving! I'm thankful for my family, my health, the Walking Dead and Connor Kenway and Daryl Dixon xD Enjoy, and thanks for reading!**

_**Homunculus7SIN**_** – Your review seriously made my whole day :D You are so kind, thank you! I tried to make Meela with a good balance between her personality and experiences, so it's nice to know I'm doing a good job.**

_**Barbs-Criatividade Zero**_** – Meela will be interacting with a LOT of the Homestead missions by herself. Thank you for your review!**

_**Alpha Lima One**_** – Here you go **

_**Legionary Prime**_** – I know! I thought after Ezio's story, with him being such a ladies man, Connor would get some loving, but I guess not -_- Thanks for the review!**

_**Defloria**_** – Thank you, I'm so glad you like it!**

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* * *

"Kimimeela…" Ratohnhakéton murmurs, voice dazed, and glee flashes in his eyes for only a split second before his eyebrows knit in worry, "Why are you here? Is the village alright?"

Instead of replying, I throw my good arm around his neck and hug him tightly. Ratohnhakéton hesitantly chuckles before holding me softly and whispers something in my ear, but my attempts to still my quivering lip has overtaken my senses. Ratohnhakéton leans away too soon, and I would have pulled him back if I had the energy. Thankfully, he doesn't question my reasons for leaving the village… yet.

"We need to get you to a doctor," He says with a smirk, "Only _you_ could lose this much blood in this amount of time."

"Are you mocking me?" I ask jokingly and raise an eyebrow, "Trust me, I've come _way _too far to hear this."

Ratohnhakéton laughs and smiles brightly, the moon shining around us giving me a clear view of his face. His jawline is sharp, nose broad, and his skin is only a few shades darker than mine. His hair is neatly pulled back into a ponytail with a small braid near his ear. The muscles under his robes strain against the white and blue fabric as he stands, his brown eyes darting to the opening of the alleyway and then back to me. I could have never imagined him looking so… _manly_.

"I know a place we can go," He decides with a curt nod, "Can you walk?"

"It's my shoulder that's hurt, Ratohnhakéton," I reply, "Or would you rather go by 'Connor'?"

Ratohnhakéton stiffens and narrows his eyes, all happiness instantly erasing from his expression. His fists clench at his sides, and he asks in a cold voice, "How do you know of that?"

"I met Achilles on my way here…" I answer, cringing from his bitter tone, "I thought you'd be happy to see me and-"

"I am happy to see you, Meela, I am," He intervenes and sighs deeply, "We've got a_ lot_ to discuss, don't we?"

"Kind of," I say, "Now, about that doctor…"

"Oh, right, the doctor," Ratohnhakéton remembers. He steps forward and grasps my forearm and helps me onto my feet with a mere simple tug. My feet tingle from the loss of blood as I reach down to grab my sickle and I would have toppled over if Ratohnhakéton had let go, but his large hand still holds my arm tightly, "So I guess you_ can't_ walk."

"I can walk!" I exclaim, "Just give me a few seconds to get used to the feeling."

"We don't have a few seconds," Ratohnhakéton says, and before I can object, he slides one arm under my knees and one around my back and lifts me into the air and against his chest with ease. I yelp at the change in elevation and clap my hand over my mouth, glancing sheepishly at Ratohnhakéton who shakes his head with amusement. To stray from raising suspicion, Ratohnhakéton travels through the alleyways and among the shadows, just as Achilles said. I look up at Ratohnhakéton and tilt my head, and he snorts and asks, "What?"

"You never answered my question. Do you want me to call you Ratohnhakéton or Connor? It's going to take some time for me to get 'Connor' down, just so you know." I answer.

"If you really want to try, I prefer Connor." _Connor_ says, stopping to peek around the corner of an old workshop before continuing onward.

"How was that name chosen? Why was it chosen?" I ask, all the questions I've been cooking up just coming out one by one, "How'd you meet Achilles? How long have you known-"

"We'll have time for questions later, I promise!" Connor insists with a grin. I sigh and fiddle with a button from his robes, and he glances down at me quickly before looking back up to see the direction in which he's walking.

"Achilles personally wanted you to tell me of the 'Creed', whatever that is." I mumble quietly, hoping he won't be mad for my constant rambling. Connor stills, his pace slowing as he processes my words.

"Here's the clinic." He says instead, completely ignoring my statement. We stand in front of a dank white building with green shutters and an overly-sized brown door. Flasks of whiskey and alcohol lay carelessly around our feet, and Connor kicks a bottle out of his way as he steps forward and knocks at the door. We wait in silence, a minute passing before he cracks at the door again.

"Oh, shut _up_ out there, I'm coming, I'm _coming_!" A scraggly, muffled voice cries from inside, "God, can't a man get two hours of sleep in this blasted city?"

The door swings open and a man as thin as a twig stands inside, his eyes squinting behind thick glasses. He wears a blue robe, and in his hand he holds a bottle of rum, "Connor, is that you? Who is this? What happened?"

"Drinking at this hour, Doctor White?" Connor asks in a serious, _I-thought-I-told-you-once_ kind of tone, and White shakes his head and places the bottle onto an end table by the doorway, "This is Meela; she's a… friend of mine. Redcoats-"

"Of _course_ it was the Redcoats!" Doctor White exclaims and ushers Connor to step inside and leads him to the first room on the left, "British this, British that; they're supposing to_ stop _trouble from arising in Boston, not start it."

The room has four cots lined against the wall, and cabinets occupy the others. Doctor White points to the nearest cot and says, "Set her down there, Connor. I'll be right back."

Carefully, Connor helps me onto the bed and sits on the cot across from me as we wait. Bangs and crashes echo in another room of the building, as well as an array of curses from Doctor White. I smirk and ask, "How you happen to meet that gem?"

"I try to tell myself it was by coincidence," Connor replies, chuckling, "But I think 'fate' is a better word for it."

"Alright, sorry for the wait," Doctor White says quickly and rushes into the room, "Roll down your sleeve and I'll take a look at the damage."

Doctor White lights a few candles in the room as I slowly pull down the sleeve of my dress, biting back a whimper as the hem brushes against my wound. Connor's jawline tightens as he watches me, and his hand reaches out to only be interrupted by Doctor White, who takes a seat beside me and pushes back my hair so he can inspect my shoulder.

"You were shot; that's for certain. Luckily the bullet just grazed your skin. There's a bit of shrapnel in the wound, but that'll be easy to take care of," Doctor White concludes, biting his tongue as he thinks, "Connor, could you hand me that pair of pliers on the tray, please?"

Connor passes the pliers to Doctor White who instantly brings them to my shoulder. I let out a deep breath, waiting for the inevitable pain, but White works so carefully that I barely feel a thing. Once the pieces of shrapnel have been removed, Doctor Whites turns to Connor again and asks, "I need gauze and that basin of water, please."

"I thought this was _your_ business, Lyle." Connor says, but gives him the supplies anyways.

"Not this early in the morning," Lyle says, and Connor laughs, "Okay, Meela, this might hurt a little."

Doctor White soaks a piece of gauze in the basin of water and swipes it over my wound. I hiss and tighten my fist, only to find Connor's hand under my fingertips. I glance up at his face slowly, our eyes locking for a split second before I yelp and squeeze his hand as Lyle continues cleaning my shoulder.

"That should be about it. Everything will heal with time," White says, while just finishing patching up my shoulder with strips of gauze, "If you have any concerns find me here, and at a_ reasonable _time, please."

"Thank you!" I call to White and follow Connor to the door. I'm still a bit dizzy from the loss of blood, but my body has already begun to regain energy. By now, the sun has just begun to rise, and small groups of people crowd the streets.

"Glad that's over," Connor murmurs and scans our surroundings before strolling casually forward, "So… you must've had a reason to leave the village."

"Kanen'tókon told you about William Johnson?" I ask, and Connor nods, "I want to help you find him; find who's responsible for this. It's unfair for our people to live an unhappy life while the British live like kings."

"I need to speak to Achilles about this," Connor says and sighs quietly, "Meela, I can't believe you-"

"I know, I've heard this one-hundred times over," I intervene, hoping Connor will drop the 'leaving the village' subject, "So, _Connor_? How was that name chosen?"

"It was Achilles' idea; said it would cease suspicion. The redcoats aren't so kind to our tribe," Connor replies and chuckles, "Plus, he can't pronounce anything."

I smile and peer up at Connor, who's nearly a foot taller than I. In the sunlight his brown eyes shine with flecks of green and blue even behind the white hood that shields his face.

"And the attire? Achilles picked this out, too?" I ask.

"It's… It's a long story. I'll explain everything once we get back to the Homestead," Connor states, "Right now, we're going to find Sam Adams."

"Who's Sam Adams?" I ask, trying to catch up with Connor as his pace increases. His gaze darts behind his shoulder and suddenly he's pulled me into an alleyway. We wait silently until two redcoats pass by the entrance to the alley, and then Connor continues to lead me toward our destination.

"He's a friend of mine," Connor answers, "I'm hoping he can help me-_us_ find William Johnson."

We come to a clearing that overlooks the ocean. Giant ships are docked near the harbor, and my eyes widen as I take in their expanse. From our village, ships sometimes passed by but were normally a few miles away. Connor smirks at my expression and nods his head toward a group of three people arguing close to where we stand. Somehow, my eyes fall onto one of the men and I know instantly that it must be Sam Adams. He wears a black trench coat that falls to his ankles and as we move toward them, their conversation becomes easier to hear.

"Look, sanctions and demonstrations won't suffice, Sam," One man says harshly, "We need to _act_… and I'm talking about more than a sternly worded letter."

"I sympathize with your frustrations, gentlemen, but surely you can understand my reluctance to kick the hornet's nest and-" Sam pauses as he catches sight of Connor and I approaching, "Ah, Connor… Hello again, what brings you to Boston?"

"You." Connor replies, and Sam smirks, his eyes glancing over me curiously before turning back to the men he was previously speaking to and asks, "Would you excuse us, fellows?"

Sam steers Connor in the opposite direction and murmurs once we've gotten some distance, "Thank you; that conversation was about to turn unpleasant… Who is this?"

"This is Meela," Connor introduces, "She's a friend of mine."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Meela, I'm Samuel Adam; you can call me Sam. A friend of Connor's is a friend of mine," Sam shakes my hand, a gesture I'm still trying to perfect, "So, uh, what can I do for you two?"

"I was hoping you could help us locate William Johnson." Connor explains.

"Of course. I'm headed to a meeting with some men who should be able to help. Why don't you come along?" Sam offers.

"Thank you, that would be-" Connor begins but it stopped by yelling. Sam narrows his eyes and leads us to the noise. We come upon a square where redcoats have completely surrounding a home with a man screaming at them from one of the house's windows.

"Hey, this is my home, no matter what you thieves called 'taxmen' say!" The man yells, half his body hanging out the window, his French accent thick, "If it's the gumps in Parliament who want my property, you tell them to sail across the pond and take it themselves!"

"It's not open for discussion. Now open this door or these men will break it down!" The taxman says from the home's porch, staggering backwards as the Frenchman savagely pours the contents of his chamberpot beside his feet.

"Bullocks, we're coming in!" One of the redcoats says and slams the butt of his musket against the front door, but is knocked onto the ground when the Frenchman bursts through the door and tackles the taxman off of the porch, breaking the railing in the process.

"And this is what Boston has come to…" Sam murmurs.

"We have to help him," I insist, glancing at Connor, "We can't just sit here and watch this happen!"

"Continue on, Sam. We shall meet you at our destination," Connor says and turns to me, "Are you sure you're up to this? Your shoulder hasn't healed."

"It's feeling better," I promise, "And besides; I can use my other arm."

Connor shakes his head in amusement and runs forward, leaping into the arm and tackling one of the redcoats onto the ground. I'd been so preoccupied by watching Connor's techniques, that I hadn't noticed the two redcoats aiming their muskets at me. Dodging their line of fire, I dash toward them and slide under their feet, one of my legs extending, knocking them both over in the process. While taking down one of the redcoats, one more has capturing Connor in a headlock, and with my best accuracy I throw my sickle toward them, slicing the redcoats' side and forcing him to the ground.

"Where did you learn _that_?" Connor asks, coughing as he regains oxygen and I shrug lightly and chuckle.

Connor turns to the Frenchman who is panting heavily and asks, "You alright?"

"I'm fine… It's not my first dance. For all their teeth and claws from these little foxes, they fight like puppies," The Frenchman says, "Thank you, my friends… I would buy you two an ale but I am expected somewhere else."

Connor nods and the man walks away slowly, his clothing covering in blood but he doesn't seem to care.

"Well… that was interesting," I decide, "Do you do this kind of stuff every day?"

Connor laughs and replies, "Just about."

* * *

With a little help from the wandering citizens of Boston, Connor and I were able to find the meeting place that Sam never mentioned. The little tavern we step into is vacant save for the two men sitting at the counter, one of them happening to be Sam. Behind the counter is the Frenchman we both just fought for, who waves to us happily as we enter.

"Connor, Meela!" Sam greets us, "I'd like you both to meet some of my like-minded friends. The owner of this fine establishment, William Mollineux, and the manager and chef of his newest venture, Stephane Chapheau."

"Ah, Connor, Meela and I just had a ball with some redcoats enforcing some taxman outside my home!" Stephane says.

"The collectors grow bolder and more forceful each day," William says, slamming his fist onto the counter, "Something we must address, Samuel."

"Then let us raise a banner; something to let the people know that they are not alone. The docks are an angry place of late, protestors picketing the latest shipments of British tea. The eyes of the city are upon that stage!" Sam answers.

"A Bostonian without his tea is a dangerous beast!" Stephane agrees.

"William Johnson is smuggling tea off the ships- one of his men tried to sell me this," William says and throws onto the counter a cloth full of tea leaves, "It was a sample of which I refused, but it's from those ships- no mistaking the stamp. He's charging a King's ransom, must be he's making a mint off those who buy it."

"Where is he now?" Connor asks.

"I've never met the man." William answers.

"He's not an easy man to pass up." I whisper, remembering the evil glint in his eyes back at the village.

"May I ask why you two seek him so?" Sam says.

"He intends to purchase the land upon which our village stands and without the consent of our people." Connor replies.

"No doubt the revenue from his little smuggling endeavor is financing the acquisition." Sam murmurs with a sigh, "A tax enforced on tea grants a boon to smugglers. I'll wager the same men who levy the taxes are selling the tea. A stages requires a spectacle and I may know the play."

"So, our plan?" I ask, and Sam and William share a grin. Stephane laughs heartily as realization falls upon him, and Connor shakes his head but smiles at their ridiculous actions.

Sam answers wickedly, "We destroy the tea."

* * *

**A/N: Yay, Chapter Six! Hope you liked it, thanks for reading! **


	7. Lies

**A/N: My friend and I were talking about AC: 3 today and we both thought it'd be really cool if there was a zombie mode for the game. Wouldn't that be amazing!? I think it'd be too similar to Red Dead Redemption, though, even though they have a lot of aspects that stand alone… O_o R&R, and enjoy!**

_**Seasidewriter1**_** – Thank you :D**

_**Timexgone23 **_**– I was so worried I wouldn't get the full effect of all the NPC's and especially from Connor. He's normally so bitter and serious, but I think if he had a love interest that he hadn't seen in forever, he'd soften up a little. Thanks for your review!**

_**Marianasgirl **_**– Thank you! I wanted to make Meela this really tough girl who's also timid of the world advancing around her. And, to answer your question, yes, some things will be completely made up. In the game, (I don't know if you've played or not xD) Connor can uncover these mysteries at certain specialty locations; kind of like pirating for treasure. I hope to make a little series of Meela and Connor doing these quests, titled 'Let me Spin Ye a Tale'. Thank you again!**

_**Barbs-Criatividade Zero**_** – Aww, thank you =3**

_**Anonymous**_** – Oh, I never noticed in the game; I'll make sure to change it. Thank you.**

_**Aoisenshi **_**– Thank you! Meela is a lot different than what I originally wanted, but I like what she's become :D**

* * *

"I'm guessing this isn't going to be an easy task… correct?" I ask Sam and cross my arms, "We're doing all this to get in Johnson's head?"

"Yes, and yes," Sam replies and takes a swig from his ale, "The shipment of tea should arrive in two days- three days max- around mid-day. Head back to the docks around that time and see to the destruction of the cargo. If you should need us, return here."

"And how do you propose we destroy this tea?" Connor asks with narrowed eyes.

"I have something that should do the trick," Stephane says and disappears in the back room of the tavern. When he emerges a few seconds later he places a collection of fist-sized iron spheres onto the counter, "A friend of mine, Norris, crafted these not too long ago. They're like cannonballs, but smaller, and are full of gunpowder. Place them near patches of cargo and shoot them at a safe distance. That'll get the job done."

Connor gazes down at his brown leather boots, eyes lost in thought. I step forward and softly place my hand on his shoulder which rouses him back to reality. He glances back at me and for just a split second I see uncertainty, maybe even a bit of fear, in his eyes, but he turns away quickly and nods a farewell to Sam, William and Stephane before following me out of the tavern and into the street where we stand quietly for a few moments.

"We should get back to the Homestead," Connor finally murmurs, "Achilles will be worried."

"How?" I ask, "It's a two-day trip and by then the tea should already be here."

"I know a shortcut," Connor smiles and points to two horses tied to a water trough, "We'll need faster transportation, however."

I shoot Connor an awestricken look and he laughs and begins walking toward the horses, yet I stand my ground and hiss under my breath, "We can't steal two horses, Connor; the redcoats will have a hissy fit!"

"We're not _stealing_," Connor says, turning to me while still walking in the opposite direction, "Just… borrowing."

I sigh and shake my head, but I know whatever crazy things this new Ratohnhakéton will drag me into, he'll keep us both safe. I hurry to catch up and assume my position by his side. The two horses tower above Connor and I, one having a brown pelt with a black mane and tail and a white star running from between its eyes to covering its muzzle, and another being a black and white paint. I hurriedly chose the paint; finding it the smaller of the two. I try to pull myself up onto its back, but the height is too high to reach. Suddenly, Connor grasps me by my waist and helps me onto the horse, and I murmur my thanks and turn away to hide my flushed look.

"If we ride at a constant pace, we should be able to reach the Homestead before nightfall." Connor says after he's seated on his horse, "Can you manage?"

"I think so," I answer, "How hard can it be?"

Connor chuckles and replies, "I guess we'll find out."

* * *

After riding through the woodland for about three hours, Connor and I arrive in the Homestead. By now, the sun just barely peeks above the mountains in the distance and fatigue has definitely become my worst enemy. Every so often, Connor will shake me awake to keep me from falling off my horse. I blink slowly, the soft movement of the horse lulling me to sleep for probably the fifth time, but Connor pats my shoulder and says quietly, "We're here."

I look up and thank the Spirits immediately, Achilles' bright red manor welcoming me as we grow near. Kanen'tókon's tomahawk still embeds itself in the same pillar, which is an action our people perform when the tribe goes to war, and is released when the threat is defeated. Connor and I leave the horses in the stables beside the manor and hurry inside. Achilles stands in the hallway balancing on his cane, his eyes on me as I enter the home.

"So, you've returned," He says, nodding, "Welcome back, Connor... I assume you located Samuel Adams?"

"Yes, Achilles," Connor replies and turns to me, "Meela can-"

"And your next objective? I didn't expect-"

"Achilles," Connor says sternly, catching the old man's attention, "Meela can stay here if she'd like, correct?"

Achilles pauses, his gaze like fire upon me, and I open my mouth to object when he replies, "Of course... that would be... alright. You must be tired, Meela."

"Extremely." I answer.

"There's a bedroom upstairs that's open; second door on the left. You are welcome to rest there." Achilles says and carefully hobbles down the hallway and out of sight. Connor waits until he's gone before he looks at me.

"Sorry for Achilles' hospitality," He apologizes, "If you need anything, just yell."

"Thank you, Connor," I say, and begin walking up the stairwell, hesitating to add, "Tell Achilles I said 'thank you' as well."

Connor nods and I continue to the second floor of the manor. My curiousity gets the better of me and I poke my head into the first door on the left, finding a bed with the covers and sheets scattered across the floor around it and various feathers and objects I'd most likely see if I were still living in the village. _Must be Connor's room._

I proceed to my designated room which is warmly lit by a candle that sits on the dresser against the wall to the right. To the left is a bed with a giant canopy and a rich crimson comforter. I run my fingers across the velvet as I move further into the room, passing various pieces of furniture before I stop in front of a big white door. I narrow my eyes; if I'm on the second floor, why is there a door _here_? I open the door slowly and sigh in relief as I realize it leads to a spacious balcony instead of dropping straight to the ground. I close the door softly and turn back to the bed but frown at my dress in the vanity to my left, cursing myself instantly as I remember all about my clothing Prudence currenly has.

On the nightstand sits a pair of brown trousers and a white blouse, things I didn't notice until now. I place the dress on the floor in a neat pile and change into the articles of clothing; pulling the knee-length trousers over the hem of the blouse. I slip onto the bed and under the covers, my eyes closing immediately as I settle into the plush pillows and blankets. Just as my mind slips into sleep, the muffled voices of Connor and Achilles rise from the floorboards and into my room, one of them mentioning my name. Curious, I tilt my head so I can hear them more clearly.

"Have you told Meela, Connor?" Achilles asks.

"No... not _yet_," Connor answers and sighs, "I was wondering when would be a good time, but it's too soon; she won't understand."

"She _will_," Achilles states firmly, "My trust has wavered with her, but she set out to find you and has accomplished her deed in less than three days; this being her first time away from your village; it's something I can barely believe."

"She's so enthusiastic to find William Johnson, her skills are far superior than I when I first found you," Connor pauses, "... Achilles, I think she's perfect."

"We'll see," Achilles replies, "You must tell her as soon as she awakens tomorrow, though. I will not lie to her furthur."

* * *

**A/N: A short chapter just to get things out of the way. Sorry for how long it took to update; I got super busy. I hope you like it! There'll be a much better chapter in my next update!**


	8. The Assassin Order

**A/N: This chapter was so fun to write; I feel like it came out exactly how I wanted it to. So, enjoy reading and thank you to everyone who has stuck with me this long (I apologize for the long,**_** long**_** wait between updates!) R&R, and thanks again!**

_**Alpha Lima One**_** – Thank you for your review :D**

_**Timexgone23**_** – Thank you, I always hate making my readers wait for updates -_- Also, I saw on your profile that you did a 'Meet the Characters' thing (which is super smart, by the way). If it's okay, I'd like to do that on my profile too, just to make a few extra OC's in the story clear. Thanks! **

_**Aoisenshi **_**– Thank you!**

_**MEleeSmasher – **_**Thank you, here's a chapter **

_**Midnightxwolfx – **_**Connor and Achilles are so sneaky xD**

_**Ninja Star Light – **_**Haha, I am so sorry I took so long to update! Hopefully you'll forgive me :)**

* * *

_An eagle soars above the trees, its strong wings carrying it within the clouds as its noble, untamed eyes scan the land below. Gracefully, it swoops down into the forest, expertly dodging branches and leaves before emerging above an open ocean. The eagle's gold-glowing body leans to the side, the tip of its wing grazing the cool, rippling water and then shooting back up toward the sky. From there, it is safe, its gaze flicking to the ground below as a troop of British redcoats pass by; one of them striking a tune on a drum as they march onward. _

_The season's change suddenly; warm, summer breeze turning into a cold, bitter winter. Snow plummets harshly to the valley, causing the eagle's swift flying to falter. It cries out frantically and attempts to straighten its route, but the storm continues to push it downward. It tumbles to the ground and embeds itself in the snow. Its once brightly glowing body dimmers before disappearing altogether, its feathers ruffling as a gust of wind passes by. Folded over a branch nearby is a red and blue flag with thirteen white stars formatted in a circle. As if by magic, the flag begins to burn, the sides and corners turning black and curling as soft, white snowflakes turn into deadly orange embers. _

I open my eyes and blink curiously a few times, my mind fumbling as I try to remember how I ended up in a bed wearing clothes I'd never seen before. I look around the room while my memory slowly comes back to me, sighing in relief as my flash of panic calms. I yawn and stretch languidly before hopping out of the bed where I make my way out onto the balcony. The cool, crisp air awakens me instantly, and I lean against the white balcony railing and listen to the cheerful birds chirping in the distance. After a few minutes I walk back inside the room and into the hallway, pausing at the silence within the manor. The door to Connor's room is slightly ajar, so I glimpse inside quickly but find the room empty. I tiptoe down the staircase as quietly as I can and search every room but find the whole manor vacant.

My boots sit near the front door, so I throw them on and step outside; hoping to see Connor or Achilles around, but my hunt comes to no avail. Where in the world could they be? I sigh deeply and walk back into the manor, closing the door behind me. I notice something in my peripheral vision and turn, jumping as my gaze lands on Achilles, who stands in the doorway to my left.

"Achilles," I say, gasping, "I didn't think anyone was home… I looked for you, but no one was around."

"Good morning, Meela," Achilles replies, "Sorry if I frightened you; I was out back. Would you like something to eat?"

"That'd be amazing, thank you," I reply, following him to the kitchen. The growling of my stomach hadn't stopped since I first found Connor in Boston, so just mentioning food nearly made my mouth water, "If you don't mind me asking, where's Connor?"

"I think he said he was going to visit Myriam," Achilles replies, "She needed help with something. He should be here any minute."

"Who's Myriam?" I ask quickly, narrowing my eyes. Achilles chuckles and pushes a plate of bread topped with butter and honey toward me.

"No need to be jealous," He says, "Myriam has lived here for quite some time now. She and Connor are just-"

"I'm not jealous," I interrupt, lying to Achilles _and_ myself. I bite down into one of the bread wedges and practically moan at the taste, all thoughts of Connor and Myriam erasing completely, "This is the best thing I've ever eaten in my entire life."

"I'm no cook, Meela." Achilles laughs, and is about to continue when the door opens. I whip my head around as Connor walks into the kitchen carrying a wooden crate which he places on the floor close to the back door.

"Morning." He says to Achilles and I and grabs a piece of bread from the plate in front of me.

"What's that?" Achilles asks and points his cane to the crate.

"Some old traps Myriam said were broken," Connor replies and lifts one into the air while munching on the bread, "She thought I could fix them in my free time."

"Do you _have_ free time?" Achilles murmurs.

"I'm sure I can squeeze an hour or two into my schedule," Connor says, turning to me, "Let's go for a walk; I want to show you something."

"A walk?" I ask, raising an eyebrow, "Why can't we just stay here and eat some more?"

"We can bring food with us," Connor insists, "It's important."

I purse my lips, wondering what could be so special that Connor would need to steal me away from stuffing my face, but I nod slowly and follow him to the front door anyways. As I slip on my boots, Connor and Achilles share a knowing glance, but I don't mention it.

"Where are we going?" I ask as Connor begins to walk behind the manor. At the edge of Achilles' property is a giant cliff that drops nearly one-hundred feet straight into the ocean. On the opposite shoreline a giant ship is docked with crewmen crowding around it. I shiver at the dark, expansive sea and move to walk on Connor's right instead of his left.

"I needed to talk to you; I left the village for a reason," Connor says in a flat tone; not yet answering my question, "I… I want you to know…"

"Know what?" I ask, narrowing my eyes curiously, "I don't understand."

"You will," He replies, nodding, "If I can't make you, then Achilles will. He says I'm not that good with words, anyways."

"Go on…" I murmur, feeling the resistance in Connor's voice. He sighs deeply and clenches his fists before speaking.

"The Clan Mother saw a symbol in my future; a symbol that I follow to this very day. It is by her directions that I was able to find Achilles, who was supposed to teach me the ways of the symbol," Connor points to the iron triangle of his belt, the sun glinting off of its surface, "This symbol represents the Brotherhood; the Assassins. Achilles is one of them and _I_ am one of them."

"Assassins…?" I mumble, dumbfounded. From what I've known, assassins are usually dangerous and shouldn't be trusted. My openness toward Connor wavers and I halt in my tracks and a pained look flashes over Connor's face at my mistrust, "But what do you fight for?"

"This," Connor replies and pushes back a few branches and bushes blocking our path. I cautiously step forward, my fearful expression calming instantly as my eyes take in the scene. The land is beautiful; large, snow-capped mountains spread across the slightly foggy, forest-flourished valley. A sparkling river flows within the valley and a herd of deer graze in a blossoming meadow nearby. The sun shines brightly, the cry of an eagle echoes as it flies straight past our heads and toward a fort settled in a clearing a few miles away. The same flag from my dream ruffles high in the air inside the fort. I let out the breath I'd been holding in and turn to Connor, who stands right beside me. He turns to me slowly, head bowed toward mine, his eyes soft but serious as he searches my face, "I fight for freedom; justice. I am not your enemy, Meela."

"So… you're not going to assassinate me?" I ask, and Connor smiles and shakes his head.

"We'll talk back at the manor, with Achilles; there's a lot more to discuss." He answers, and I pause before nodding.

"…What's that?" I ask and point to the fort far in the distance.

"Fort Norcom," Connor says, "It's a Patriot fort. It was once controlled by the British, but now it stands with the rebels."

"Patriots?" I say.

"Men who want what I hope to achieve; freedom from the Loyalists," Connor answers, "… Want to meet some of them?"

"Sure…" I reply, even though all I want to do is force more answers out of Connor. What else is there to talk about? What is Achilles also hiding from me? Should I even_ trust_ them? My mind fights to just run away, but I will myself to continue following Connor deeper into the forest.

We walk in silence, both of us too involved in our own thoughts and worries to speak. When we step into the clearing near the forts' entrance, a Patriot wearing the same blue uniforms as the men who had attacked Prudence and Warren waves his hand at us and yells, "Welcome back, Connor!"

"Are you sure about this?" I mumble to Connor, knowing the damage these same men had done to Warren, "I believed you before, but I'm starting to have my doubts."

"We're perfectly fine, Meela," Connor says, "I won't let anyone hurt you."

I stare into his brown eyes, uncertainty probably etched across my face. Connor reaches his hand toward mine, but I take a step away from him, still not fully understanding his status.

"Connor!" A voice says, and we both turn at the man walking toward us as the gates of the fort begin to open. He stands nearly a foot taller than Connor and wears brown trousers, a white undershirt and a short, navy blue trench coat that curves away from his hips and travels behind him to the backs of his knees, "It's been so long since you've visited us!"

"Yes, it has, I-" Connor grunts as the man picks him up and hugs him tightly. He places Connor back on his feet and laughs, his cheeks bright with joy, his beard hiding his jaws.

"Who's this?" The man asks, looking at me, his face just as cheerful as before.

"This is my friend, Meela," Connor answers, "Meela, this is James Tanner."

"It's nice to meet you, James," I say, holding out my hand, but James steps forward and embraces me just as tightly as he did with Connor, even though we'd only just met. I cough and pat his shoulder, "Oxygen would be nice."

"Oh, sorry," James states and laughs nervously, "It's nice to meet you as well, Meela. Connor, you never told me you were married."

Connor and I exchange an awkward glance as he fumbles with his words, "No… we're not-she's not…"

"Haven't tied the knot, yet, I presume?" James asks with a smile, "Well, you are still young. Melissa and I were hitched around your age; but that's a whole different story. Anyways, Isaac has been dying to see you again, Connor."

The three of us walk into the fort, my gaze taking in the large stone buildings and lush green trees inside. I'd never been in a fort before, but this was never what I had imagined. We travel through a bumbling market, people poking their heads up and greeting Connor as we pass. James opens the door to a small stone home with a red roof and invites us inside, our heads nearly hitting the ceiling.

"Isaac!" James yells, "There's someone here to see you!"

The patter of tiny feet can be heard from the second floor, and soon a little boy no older than six with a mess of curly blond hair stumbles down the steps carrying a wooden horse toy in his hands. His eyes light up as he spots Connor and launches himself toward him. Connor chuckles and lifts him up into his arms.

"Hi, Connor." The little boy, Isaac, says softly.

"You've grown so much since the last time I saw you," Connor says, his voice rising an octave, "You'll be taller than me, soon!"

"Who's that?" Isaac asks, hiding behind Connor's neck and peering at me around his neck.

"This is Meela; she's my friend." Connor says and turns around so Isaac faces me.

"Hi, Isaac," I say and smile, holding out my hand, half expecting him to attack me like James had, "I'm Meela."

Slowly, Isaac grasps my hand and shakes it, grinning at me immediately afterwards. I look around the tiny home, which is way too small for a family of three like Isaac, James and his wife, Melissa.

"I know, it's pretty small," James says, answering my thoughts, "We share it with another family, too. It doesn't bother me that much, really."

I laugh, shaking my head in disbelief and say, "What does your wife think about it?"

James' once bright smile twitches into a thin line, and his head drops to the floor. I glance at Connor, who holds my gaze for a split second before turning back to James.

"Melissa passed a year ago…" James murmurs, looking up at us.

"Oh… Oh, James, I'm so sorry." I stammer, cursing myself for speaking out so carelessly.

"It's fine, Meela," James says, forcing a grin onto his face, "It's just been hard with her gone…"

"Where are Abraham and Axel?" Connor asks to steer away from the subject, "I promised I'd visit them the next time I came to the fort."

"They're probably out whining and bullshitting like always," James says with a grunt, "That poor mother of theirs, Sarah. I don't know where she finds the energy to keep those two in check."

"I'll make sure to teach them where they stand," Connor replies jokingly and sets Isaac onto the floor, "Bye, Isaac."

"Bye, Connor," Isaac says and throws his little arms around Connor's neck before backing away, "Bye, Meela."

"Bye, Isaac," I answer, "Thank you for inviting me into your home, James. It was nice meeting you and your son."

"Not a problem, Meela, come by any time you like." James calls as we walk outside. As soon as the door closes behind us I slap a hand over my face and groan loudly.

"Spirits, I'm so_ stupid_," I huff, "I didn't know his wife had passed; the way he spoke about her made it seem she was still here today."

"Don't let that bring you down, I did the same thing when I first met James," Connor answers and nods to the house in front of us, "This is where Abraham and Axel live. Sarah is their mother. Harrison, their father, joined the war a little over two years ago."

"So, you brought me here to introduce me to all your new friends?" I ask, wondering if the things Connor told me, about the 'Brotherhood' and the 'Assassins', was actually true or not.

"Sort of," Connor replies, "Meela… I know you're confused about what I said earlier, but I promise I'll explain everything once we get back to the manor. It's really-"

"Just let me do it, you ignoble _wrench_!" Someone cries from behind Abraham and Axel's home.

"Ignoble wrench? At least that's better than being an old trout like you!" Another voice yells.

Connor and I hurry behind the home, where two teenage boys are wrestling in the middle of an unplanted garden. Connor crosses his arms and says, "I thought you two said you were going to mature while I was gone."

At the mere sound of his voice, Abraham and Axel scramble away from each other and leap to their feet.

"Ma told me to ready the garden for planting, and Axel decided it was going to be his job." Abraham huffs, jabbing a thumb at his brother, who stands beside him quietly. Abraham has long, dark brown hair that rests at his shoulders and forest-green eyes. Axel, on the other hand, has short, sandy colored hair and brown eyes.

"Abraham wasn't doing anything right. I didn't want Ma to be angry, so I offered to help him." Axel says softly, but shoots Abraham a deadly glare.

"Sure, sure," Connor answers sarcastically, "Where is your mother, anyways?"

"Right here," Sarah says as she opens and holds the back door open, "Thank God you stopped these boys, Connor. I was just going to get James to settle them… Who's this?"

"I'm Meela, I'm a friend of Connor's," I answer, smiling, "It's nice to meet you and your boys."

"I apologize for their hospitality, Meela," Sarah says, "Why don't you two come inside? Breakfast is almost ready."

"That's alright, ma'am, we already ate. We need to get back to the manor, anyways," Connor answers and turns to Abraham and Axel, who straighten instantly as his gaze falls on them, "Respect your mother, okay?"

Abraham and Axel nod frantically and just as we've begun to walk away they run into their home to eat. I turn to Connor as we walk out of the fort and say, "There are some nice people there."

"Yeah," Connor says, and I recall how the construction of forts and new homes near our village once angered him, "I don't visit as often as I should. When we have the time, I'll introduce you to the others."

Upon entering the manor, Achilles turns to us from the hallway. His eyes land on Connor- who shrugs sheepishly- and sighs upon some hidden realization. He begins to walk further toward the kitchen, but I step forward briskly to catch his attention.

"I want to know what's going on," I say, my voice demanding but still uncertain, "I don't know if I can believe what Connor's told me… I heard the two of you speaking to each other last night, and I… I just want some feedback. You two are keeping something from me, something more than the 'Brotherhood' and the 'Assassins', if that's even real at all. I'm here and I should be aware of what's being whispered behind my back."

Achilles and Connor share a glance, and Achilles turns to me and nods toward the room directly to my right.

"Come on, then." He says, and I follow him into the room and sit down on the same seat that I sat at when I first came to the manor looking for Connor.

Achilles props his cane against the wall behind him and locks his fingers together, the fire in the fireplace crackling between us. Connor leans against the opposite wall and crosses his arms as he waits for Achilles to speak. Clearing his throat, Achilles begins;

"Long, long ago, far before my father's time, his father's time and his father's time, a monastic group known as the Templar Order was founded. The Templars sought to create a perfect world, although their means to reach their goal were done with force, charge and destruction of free-will, whereas their sworn enemies, the Assassin Order, the Brotherhood, fought to ensure its survival and promoted progression of new ideas and the growth of individuality. The Templars today seek control. They see an opportunity in the colonies; a chance for new beginnings, unfettered by the chaos of the past. This is why they side with the British. Here, they have a chance to illustrate the merits of their beliefs: a people in service to the principle of order and structure. And… this is why we fight them,

"By the three tenets of the Assassin's Creed, our values that help to govern our life tell us to keep our blades from the flesh of the innocent, hide in plain sight and blend with the crowd and never,_ ever_ compromise the Brotherhood. We fight for the peace and freedom in all things, even if it may seem hard to achieve," Achilles pulls himself onto his feet by his cane, "Follow me."

I follow behind him closely as he continues his speech, information of the history, recruitment and former assassins of the Brotherhood filling my mind. At the entrance of the kitchen, he stops and grasps the handle of the oil lamp settling into the wall. He pulls the lamp down with the handle of his cane and the bare wall beside it swings open automatically, "This way."

We walk down a flight of stairs to the hidden basement of the manor, my eyes darting around the musky space. A vacant wall of hangers carries nothing except for the last one, which holds a pale cobalt blue and white outfit similar to Connor's. A wooden box sits idly beside the outfit, my curiosity scoring as I wonder what it holds inside.

"Connor and I have spoken; we have argued and plundered and_ finally_ made a decision," Achilles says, shooting Connor a glare as he chuckles at the top of the staircase, "If you wish, I will train you; just as I have with Connor. Then we'll know if you've the right to wear those robes."

I nod, understanding the topic I once swore to uncover effectively donning on me. If I agree with Achilles promise, I will begin training to become an Assassin, for an Order I only just realized existed. I turn to Connor, who, even though has been changed by the passing years, is still the strong, kind and handsome man I knew back at the village. I nod again, and Achilles smiles the first true, genuine smile I've seen since I met him. As we pass the robes, I run my hands over the smooth but unyielding fabric and turn to the wall before me, my heart freezing at what presents itself there. Seven golden-framed portraits hang on the wall, each of them labeling the persons' name and rank among the Templar Order. I recognize William Johnson immediately and notice that the man labeled Charles Lee, who is also the second-in-command, is the man seen in my dreams. The other names include John Pitcairn, Thomas Hickey, Nicholas Biddle and Benjamin Church, but the portrait closest to the ceiling catches my attention.

"That man; Haytham Kenway," I say, pronouncing his name slowly, noticing that he's the Grandmaster of all the Templar Order, "He looks familiar."

"He's my father," Connor answers dryly, and I turn with wide eyes as he proceeds toward us from the staircase, "They all must die, all of them, but especially my father. He's the one holding the whole thing together."

"But how will we find them?" I ask, "Wouldn't it be better just to take out the highest ranks and then go down from there?"

"No, because if it is my father who is taken down first, then Charles Lee will become Grandmaster… I will _not _see our nation, our whole Order, be devastated by his tyranny. I _will_ see to his determination, however, and by _my_ hands." Connor replies, eyes darkening as he stares at the portrait of Lee.

"Why is it that you hate him so?" I wonder, narrowing my eyes at the mixed expressions crossing Connor's face.

"He is the one who burned our village to the ground; killed our people… murdered my mother," Connor mumbles, "I cannot fathom the intensisity of my rage toward him."

I watch Connor carefully, my thoughts returning to the time where I stood holding his hand, listening to his cries as he mourned over his mother's death. I remember the anger in his eyes; the madness that must have urged to Spirits to drive him here to Achilles.

"I'll help you, then," I say, stepping forward so Connor will focus his attention on me. I grasp his hand and thread my fingers through his own, the way his eyes soften telling me that he must be recalling this same memory like I am, but reliving it now four years into the future, "the Brotherhood will not fall."

* * *

**A/N: Yay, Chapter 8 is done! Thanks for reading! Next update, Connor and Meela will be blowing up some cargo and begin complete badasses xD**


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